


There Is No Greater Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

by ChocolateCapCookie



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A lil bit anyway, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Sarah Rogers, But also, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Cute Kids, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kid Steve Rogers, Kid Tony Stark, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Sleepy Boys, Starvation, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trigger Warnings, Worried Jarvis (Iron Man movies), now for the good tags heheh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie
Summary: So this was school. He’d read all about school, of course, and maybe he couldn’t do magic like Harry Potter, but he could do lessons and make friends. Maybe he’d find his own Ron and Hermione! He didn’t want to find a Ginny though, because then he’d have to kiss her, and kissing was yucky.On Tony's first day of school, he makes a new friend. Steve is nice and pretty and fun to play with, and Tony can't understand why his Daddy seems to hate Steve so much.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 47
Kudos: 405
Collections: Stony-The best of Steve/Tony





	There Is No Greater Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsallAvengers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/gifts).



> This is for the amazing [itsallAvengers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers) because you are an amazing, amazing writer and I love your work cause it makes me, like, _feel_ things man, and when I grow up I want to be just like you.
> 
> Pls don't take that ^ rambling love confession as indicative of my normal writing lmao
> 
> Trigger warnings for graphic and explicit child abuse, alcoholism and starvation.
> 
> I hope you like it!

Tony looked over at his reflection in the mirror one more time, excitedly fixing his backpack on his shoulder.

_My first day of school!_

He smiled at his reflection, looking over the outfit Ana had laid out for him: a red shirt with Tom and Jerry sewn on the front pocket, blue denim shorts and his favourite pair of red-and-gold Nikes. They’d been custom-made, one of his favourite gifts from his daddy. Speaking of daddy…

Tony frowned and bounced down the stairs to where Jarvis and Ana were waiting for him. He sighed, his heart falling all the way into his Nikes. He’d expected this, but it didn’t hurt any less.

“Isn’t daddy going to drop me at school?” he asked Ana, knowing that she was more likely to give him a straight answer than Jarvis. Ana sighed and knelt down to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Not today, sweetheart,” she said, in that soft voice that she reserved for talking to Tony about his parents. “Your daddy can’t make it today.”

Tony knew that already, of course. He’d seen daddy stumbling into their mansion earlier that night, when Tony had been too excited about his first day of school to go to sleep. Daddy had been walking in that funny way he did sometimes that meant he wouldn’t get out of bed ‘til at least noon, and he’d be in a horrible mood when he did. So he wasn’t really expecting anything, but it was still disappointing. He frowned and crossed his hands against his chest.

“What about mama?”

“Mama’s sick, you know that, Anthony,” said Ana, still soft. Tony frowned. His mama was _always_ sick, not sick enough so that he could go visit her in the hospital, but enough to make her lie around in bed and sleep whenever Tony wanted to play a game with her. He looked accusingly at Jarvis and Ana.

“I don’t want to go with _you,_ ” he mumbled, but stalked out of the door anyway, climbing into the back seat of the car parked in front, crossing his pudgy arms angrily. He loved Jarvis and Ana, he really did, but he wanted his mama and daddy to see him on his first day of school. Everyone else would have their mamas and daddies with them, and they’d laugh at Tony when they saw him drive up with Jarvis. He scowled and kicked the back of the driver’s seat.

Jarvis ignored him, so he kept kicking. It made him feel better, but it also scuffed his new shoes. He frowned and pulled one shoe off to examine it. There was a little mark on one side, but maybe Ana could clean it when he got home?

He was so preoccupied with his shoe, he forgot his earlier anger, and when Jarvis stopped in front of a nice, homely-looking building, Tony stared at it with excitement. So this was school. He’d read all about school, of course, and maybe he couldn’t do magic like Harry Potter, but he could do lessons and make friends. Maybe he’d find his own Ron and Hermione! He didn’t want to find a Ginny though, because then he’d have to kiss her, and kissing was yucky.

Jarvis helped him out of the car and straightened him up, before taking his hand and leading him inside. Tony had planned to pull his hand away, but seeing all the other kids being walked to the door by their parents, he reluctantly held on. Jarvis led him down a long hallway until they reached a big room filled with other kids. A nice-looking woman with long red hair came over to them, smiling widely.

“Hello!” she said cheerily to Tony, and shook Jarvis’s hand. “I’m your teacher, Ms. Maximoff. But a lot of people find it hard to say my name, so you can just call me Miss Max. Now, what’s your name?”

“‘M Tony,” said the boy, unable to take his eyes off her long flowing red hair. He’d never seen anything like it before; Ana’s hair was red, but it was cut short like his. His new teacher was _beautiful._

Ms. Maximoff’s smile grew even wider. “So you’re the famous Tony!” she said happily. “It’s a pleasure having you in my class.” She held her hand out for him, and Tony hesitated for a few moments before pulling his hand out of Jarvis’s and slipping it into hers.

“You need to put your bag and coat away in that corner,” said Ms. Maximoff, pointing at a wall covered with lockers and coat hangers. “And then, you can find an empty seat and read quietly or play with some of the toys until I start the class okay?”

“Okay,” mumbled Tony, shyly. He looked at Jarvis, a little afraid of being left alone, but Jarvis simply petted his hair and said, “Good luck, young Master,” before turning around to leave. Tony hung up his bag and coat, and looked around for a place to sit. All the tables were half-full, he wouldn’t be able to get one to himself. Sighing, he walked over to the least full table carrying a book he’d brought from home. There were only two kids sitting there, and Tony seated himself as far away from them as possible, praying that they’d leave him alone. He would make friends later, but right now he wanted to be by himself.

He tried to focus on his book, but his attention kept sliding away to the two boys at the other end of the table. One was short and thin, with blond hair and the bluest eyes Tony had ever seen. The other had long brown hair, and Tony instinctively wrinkled his nose. His daddy always said long hair was for girls. 

As he was screwing up the courage to go talk to them, he saw the brown-haired one throw his hands in the air and walk away, like they’d had a fight. The blond one stayed where he was, but he was looking sadly at the table, like he was going to cry. Tony didn’t like when people cried, so he went over to the boy.

Tony sat on a chair next to him and gently tapped his shoulder. The boy looked up confusedly, and Tony noticed his beautiful blue eyes were filled with tears. Tony frowned. This boy was too pretty to be sad.

“Hi, I’m Tony,” he said shyly, holding out his hand. The boy didn’t say anything, just looked at his outstretched hand with confusion. “What’s your name?”

The boy stayed quiet for a few moments before he slowly took Tony’s hand in his own bony one. “‘M Steve,” said the other boy quietly. “I like your shoes.”

“My daddy got them for me. They’re custom-made!” said Tony excitedly. Steve looked confused.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means they made it just for me. Nobody else has shoes like this.” Steve looked at Tony with awe.

“That’s so cool,” he said, smiling at Tony. “I don’t have any new shoes, I have to wear my friend Bucky’s old shoes ‘cause my mom can’t ‘ford to buy me any.”

“Is Bucky your friend with the long hair?” asked Tony. Steve nodded, and his bottom lip started quivering again. Tony could see his eyes fill with tears, and he frowned. “Why did he make you cry?”

“He said he didn’t want to be my friend anymore,” said Steve, sadly. “He said he found a new friend, that boy over there.” Steve pointed at a kid in the corner who was happily building a tower with Bucky and a few other people. The boy was dark-skinned and had a haircut that looked like some of the Army people daddy sometimes brought home. “I don’t have any friends.”

Steve started to cry, and Tony frowned. Steve was so beautiful and interesting, he should have a lot of friends! “I’ll be your friend,” he offered. He didn't really want to make friends, but he wanted to make Steve feel better. Steve sniffled and looked at him with tear-filled eyes.

“You don’t want to be my friend,” he said quietly. “I get beat up a lot. People don’t like me very much.”

“If any beats you up, I’ll beat them back,” said Tony, flexing his muscles like Tom did sometimes in Tom and Jerry. Steve giggled at that.

“Bucky used to do that,” he said. “There were these mean boys in our street but Bucky fought ‘em and made ‘em go away so they don’t hurt me no more.”

“ _Any_ more,” corrected Tony automatically, and then blushed when he realized how rude that was. Now Steve wouldn’t want to be his friend. He looked at Steve to see if he was angry, but the boy was just looking at him in wonder.

“You’re smart,” he said in an awed voice, and Tony shrugged

“My mama and daddy say I’m a genius. They never tell me, but I heard them tell other people sometimes.”

“My daddy’s dead,” said Steve conversationally, but he was cut short when Ms. Maximoff clapped her hands in front of the class.

“Good morning, class,” she said cheerfully, and Tony was again drawn to her beautiful red hair. It was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, besides Steve’s eyes. “We have a few new students today, so I’d like all of you to stand up and introduce yourselves first. Tell us your name and how old you are. If you like, you can say something else about yourself too.”

The class took turns introducing themselves, and Tony watched them, mentally committing all the names to memory. Everyone had some interesting fact about themselves, usually about their pet cat or dog or rabbit, and Tony figured what he wanted to say. When the round reached his and Steve’s table, he stood up first.

“My name’s Tony Stark, and I’m five-and-a-half,” he boasted. “I have a pet robot at home. I helped to make him, but he’s not very smart, so I call him Dum-E.”

Ms. Maximoff looked at him in confusion for a few seconds, as did the rest of the class, but she quickly gathered her wits and called on Steve

“‘M Steve Rogers,” said Steve shyly, playing with his fingers on the table and not looking at anyone. “An’ I’m five.” He hesitated for a few seconds and then sat down quickly. Tony was confused.

“You didn’t say anything else about you,” he said, almost scandalized. Steve simply shrugged.

“Miss teacher said we didn’t have to if we don’t want to,” he said in a small voice. “‘Sides, there’s nothing interesting ‘bout me.”

“I think you’re very interesting,” said Tony, and Steve shook his head, but before they could continue their conversation, Ms. Maximoff called them to attention again. It was playtime.

The older kids quickly scrambled out of their seats to grab the best toys, while Steve and Tony stayed seated, confused and a little scared by the rush. By the time they realized what was happening, the only toy left was a large packet of Play-Doh.

“Tony, Steve, would you mind sharing this?” asked Ms. Maximoff sweetly. “There’s not enough to go around.” Looking into her blue eyes, Tony felt like he’d do anything for her.

“We can share the colors,” said Steve, thinking hard. “We can cut all the pieces in half so we both have a ‘lil of each color.”

“But that won’t be enough,” frowned Tony. “You can have all the top colors and I’ll have the bottom?”

“But then neither of us gets the good colors.”

“Then we’ll play together!”

“Huh?”

“We’ll make one thing with all the colors! You ‘n me, Steve! We could make a huge, big monster, or lots of animals!”

“Okay,” agreed Steve affably, and the boys got started on their monster-McDonald’s farm.

  
  
  


At the end of the school day, Tony was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. He’d almost have believed he was dreaming, if Ms. Maximoff hadn’t been going around the classrooms taking pictures of all the children, to commemorate their first day of school.

He’d played with Steve all day, and they were now best friends. They’d sat together at story time, they slept cuddled together at naptime, and they’d even eaten lunch together, or as possible as it was to eat together when Steve didn’t have any lunch with him. Steve had looked so longingly at Tony’s crustless egg sandwiches that he’d split them with Steve, no question.

Now at the end of the day, both boys were waiting impatiently at the front door for their parents to come pick them up. Bucky had passed by earlier, but he’d walked awkwardly away from Steve, and Steve turned away as well.

“Do you want to come over to my place sometime?” asked Tony, looking over at Steve, knowing he was sad about Bucky ignoring him. “I have a lot of toys we could play with, and you could meet Dum-E.”

“I’ll ask my ma,” said Steve with a smile. “‘N maybe you could come over to my place too. I don’t have toys, but ma could make cookies and we could help her and then we’d get to lick the bowl.” Tony let out an awed giggle. He’d never seen anyone ever make cookies before, and certainly never got to lick the bowl. The boys whispered conspiratorially together, making plans until their parents arrived.

Everyone gasped as Tony’s car pulled up in front of the school. Tony hoped against hope that his mama or daddy would step out, but it was only Jarvis as usual.

A short, blonde woman followed Jarvis up the driveway to the school. She looked tired, Tony noticed, but she had a kind, smiling face. Both adults walked up to their respective children, who immediately started babbling to them about their day.

“Jarvis, Steve ‘n I made a _biig_ monster out of Play-Doh, we mixed all the colors and it had big horns and we made it eat the animals…”

“I made a new friend, mama, his name’s Tony and he has _custic-maked_ shoes, and they’re really pretty, they’re red and yellow…”

“...We slept together at naptime, and Steve hugged me…”

“...Tony shared his lunch with me, it was yummy…”

“...so can he come over, Jarvis?”

“...so can he come over, ma?”

Sarah Rogers smiled at Jarvis. “It seems like our sons made friends,” she said cheerfully, a trace of an Irish accent audible in her soft voice. “Maybe Tony would like to come over and play with Steve outside of school someday?” Jarvis smiled back, although it was fixed and didn’t reach his eyes. He was annoyed; Tony knew all the tells.

“Tony is not my son, madam,” he said, politely. “I merely work for his family. Of course, I will pass on your invitations to Mr. and Mrs. Stark. Now say good-day, Anthony.”

Tony sighed. He didn’t want to go back home. School was happy and bright and fun, and it had Steve and Ms. Max. Home was dark and boring and he was all alone. But he knew he couldn’t stay behind, so he gave Steve a quick hug, and then followed Jarvis down the road, clutching his backpack forlornly. He tried not to notice Steve’s hurt look as he walked away.

He was silent during the drive back, until Jarvis spoke.

“Young master,” started Jarvis slowly, like he’d rather do anything but this. “I would advise you to stay away from that boy in the future.”

“What?” exclaimed Tony. “But Steve’s my friend! I don’t like anyone else in my class.”

“He seems like a nice young man, and so does his mother,” said Jarvis, “But your father would not like you fraternizing so closely with a boy, especially with a boy like him.”

“Wha’s wrong with Steve?”

“Anthony, darling,” said Jarvis, fond but exasperated, “These are things you will learn as you grow older. For now, please stay away from that boy, or you will be sure to face a lot of anger from your father.”

Tony pouted and crossed his arms angrily. He couldn’t stop being friends with Steve! They were _best friends!_ Nobody else would make monsters with him or invite him to their house to make cookies. Daddy couldn’t make him stay away from Steve, Daddy didn’t even care enough to drop him off or pick him up today, so what would he know? Tony would be Steve’s friend for ever and ever and ever.

  
  
  


“Maria! Get the boy and send him to me! At once!”

Tony paused, hearing his father’s shouts from downstairs. He was in his room, trying to replicate the monster he’d made with Steve in school. For some reason, the colours just didn’t mix right without Steve. Tony sighed and put down his fourth attempt, ready to go meet his father.

“Is daddy okay, mama?” he asked his mother quietly as she led him to his father’s office. She stood for a moment with her hands on his shoulder, but then she let him go and walked with him to his father’s den.

Tony was almost never allowed to come in here, his father only called him in when he was in very serious trouble. He looked around the room with fear, his five-year-old brain already conditioned to associate the sight of his father’s oak bookshelves and panelled walls with a scolding or a whipping.

“Anthony,” started his father harshly, “You are _not_ to be friends with that boy any longer, do you understand?” Tony whimpered, unable to understand why everybody hated Steve so much. Steve was so nice and kind and fun, why couldn’t he be Steve’s friend?

“B-but daddy,” he said, his voice shaking, “Steve is my _friend._ You’ll like him if you meet him, daddy, I promise, please can he come over and play with me one day?”

Far from making his dad feel better, Tony’s words only seemed to enrage him more. With a loud roar, he picked up a book and threw it narrowly at the mother-and-son pair, barely missing the corner of Maria’s head. Tony, who was already frightened, burst into tears.

“Daddy, _please,_ ” he cried, clinging to his mother’s frock. “Steve is my best friend, and I love him very much-”

“Shut up!” yelled his father, reaching over and slapping Tony’s face. The force of his large hand hitting Tony’s tender flesh was so strong that Tony stopped crying for a second, wondering whether his father had slapped his head clean off his body. This was only for a second, until the pain hit him in full force, and Tony screamed, burying his head in his mother’s skirt and sobbing his eyes out.

“Howard,” started his mother, cradling Tony’s head and trying to placate her drunk husband, “He’s still a boy, he doesn’t understand their status…” Howard huffed and reached over for his phone, which had fallen to the side during their scuffle.

“Look at these, Maria,” he shouted, anger obvious in his voice, thrusting the phone to his wife. “He is just a child, which means we need to train him out of this behaviour _immediately._ No son of mine is going to grow up this way.”

“Howard…” said Maria softly, “Where did you get these pictures?”

“His teacher,” scoffed Howard. “Some European name, I believe. She sent me them, told me it was _cute._ She actually condoned this disgusting behaviour! She wants my son to turn into a faggot!” Howard broke off, mumbling to himself, “This is why we should never have let those dirty immigrants into our country…”

Full of curiosity at this point, Tony leaned up to see what was so enraging on his father’s phone. He tugged on his mother’s skirt, and she knelt down to show him the screen. In spite of everything, Tony heart swelled: it was a picture of him and Steve today at naptime. The boys had slept together on the same small mattress, which meant they’d had to cuddle together to keep from falling off. Thin, bony Steve had complained that he was cold, so Tony had wrapped him up in his arms as Steve snuggled into his neck. Tony could still remember how nice it felt to sleep with someone next to him, how pleasant it was when he buried his nose into Steve’s soft blond hair. He smiled involuntarily, and it took him about half a second to realize that that was a terrible idea.

Howard howled and grabbed his phone from Maria’s hand. Tony flinched at the feeling of his daddy’s hand so close to him. “Leave, Maria,” Howard commanded. Maria dithered for a moment, but soon left, not wanting to stay with her drunk husband for longer than she needed to. Tony lowered his head and looked at the floor, terrified.

“Will you stay away from this boy, Anthony?” All Tony had to do was say ‘yes’, and his father would leave him alone. But for some reason, he couldn’t get the simple word to rise out of his mouth. He didn’t _want_ to stay away from Steve, but he didn’t dare say so to his father. Howard took Tony’s silence for the rejection that it was and scowled angrily.

“Pull your pants down and bend over, boy,” he said, pulling out an evil-looking whip. Tony trembled but obeyed, exposing his naked buttocks to his father. Without warning, Howard hit him with five quick lashes, burning fiery-hot on his skin. Tony howled, the pain of the lashes on bare skin being too much for his tiny, five-year-old body to bear. Howard ripped Tony’s t-shirt away and whipped him ten more times in quick succession, the lash landing all over the poor boy’s chest and back, and even slightly on his arms. The quick strokes sent a fiery wave of pain down Tony’s entire body, red-hot and screaming. 

When his father finally finished with him, Tony stumbled out of the room, naked and numb with pain and terror. Some of the lashes on his back were bleeding, but no-one was around to look after him. With a quiet whimper, he ran as fast as he could (which wasn’t very fast due to the pain of cold air hitting the stinging cuts) and fell onto his bed, crying like only a child could. He stayed bleeding and in pain for over an hour before Jarvis, Ana and his mother were allowed to see him again. Wincing in sympathy, Jarvis washed and cleaned the wounds and applied soothing cream on them while Ana helped him into the softest pair of pyjamas Tony owned. His mother wasn’t there, of course. Jarvis and Ana lay with him until he fell asleep, sobs of hurt, pain and fear leaking out of his small body.

  
  
  


The next day, he begged Jarvis to send him to school. Jarvis said no, clearly worried about the marks on Tony’s skin, and the pain they would cause him. But Tony didn’t think of any of that, he _couldn’t_ think of that. His only thought was to be with Steve. Fed up with Tony’s persistence, Jarvis agreed, on the condition that Howard said yes.

Tony trailed after Jarvis as he went to consult Howard. The man seemed ashamed of his outburst the previous night, and had bought Tony a new Xbox console to replace the one he’d broken a few months ago. Tony barely glanced at it though, respectfully bowing his head and asking for permission to go to school. Howard frowned but acquiesced, wondering why his child was so eager to go to school, conveniently forgetting the accusations he’d flung around not 12 hours ago.

Ana dressed Tony in a long-sleeved sweater and long loose jeans. He hissed as the wool hit his wounds, but tried to hide it, knowing he would be made to stay back if he displayed any hint of pain. Ana made him wear two pairs of underwear and a t-shirt inside the sweater, which felt silly but stopped the wounds from hurting. He made Ana wrap him an extra portion of lunch, giggling as he thought of how pleased Steve would be.

Unlike yesterday, Tony was so madly excited during the drive to school that he couldn't keep still at all. Almost as soon as Jarvis stopped the car, Tony hastily removed his seatbelt and flew down the path to his classroom, barely even noticing the pain from his wounds. He burst into the classroom and scanned the tables looking for Steve. His little heart leaped as he saw the thin blond boy seated alone in a corner.

“Hello, Steve,” said Tony cheerfully, biting his lip to keep from gasping at the pain in his buttocks as he sat down. Steve smiled shyly at him.

“Hey, Tony.”

“D’you want to go play with the good toys?” asked Tony, “No one’s around so we can get the very bestest ones.”

Steve seemed to contemplate it for a moment, then bit his lip and slowly shook his head. “I’m kinda tired,” he said, and now that Tony looked carefully, he could see that Steve was leaning too far on the table to catch his balance. His words and movements were slow and measured, and his eyes kept drifting off.

“Are you okay?” asked Tony softly. He didn’t like seeing Steve be sad. Steve just shrugged, looking down at the table.

“‘M fine,” he said quietly, “Just a little hungry.”

“Didn’t you eat breakfast? Ana says breakfast is the most important meal of the day and if you don’t eat it, you’ll feel very very bad.”

“I don’t eat breakfast,” said Steve, still in that low, quiet tone that ripped Tony’s heart in half. “And I didn’t eat lunch or dinner yesterday either. Mama had to buy me a lotta new stuff for school, so we don’t have any money.”

Tony gasped. He’d once been punished by his daddy for breaking one of his important science experiments, where Howard had locked him in his room for 12 hours and ordered that he’d be given no food in that time. He’d eaten breakfast that morning, and Jarvis had slipped him a plate of cold leftovers when the punishment was over, but he would never forget how loud and empty his stomach had felt, the pain and lethargy spreading over his entire body as he lay hungry on his bed. And here was Steve telling him he hadn’t eaten in 24 hours, possibly longer considering all he had to eat yesterday was half of Tony’s egg sandwich.

“You can share my food again,” he offered, not knowing what else to say, “I brought extra for you.” Steve looked so thin and tired, Tony just wanted to wrap him in his arms like yesterday at naptime. Steve looked at Tony’s distressed face and guessed correctly what his friend was thinking.

“It’s okay, Tony,” he said with a shy smile, bravely making an effort to put an arm around his friend. “‘M used to it.”

Steve’s arm rubbed against one of the wounds on Tony’s back, and he involuntarily hissed in pain. Steve looked at him in confusion.

“Are you okay?” he asked nervously, and Tony quickly nodded his head. He didn’t want to tell Steve about his daddy and the whipping he’d gotten last night; Steve might laugh at him or stop being his friend.

“I’m good,” he said, quickly stretching his arm out to show that he was okay and relaxed. He’d forgotten about the wounds on his arms though, and he yelped in pain as they rubbed harshly against the wool of his sweater. He quickly pulled his arm down and started rubbing at the spot where it hurt.

“You’re not okay,” stated Steve bluntly, watching Tony carry out this exercise. “You hurt your arm.”

“No I didn’t,” scowled Tony, but Steve had already grabbed his arm and pushed the sleeve up. He gasped at the sight of the fiery red marks on Tony’s skin.

“Tony, you’re hurt!” cried Steve, tears coming to his own eyes at the thought of anyone hurting his beloved friend. “And you have ouchies in other places too, don’t you? I saw you rubbing your bum when you sat down, and I thought it was funny, but it’s not funny now.” Steve sniffled. “Who did this?”

“My daddy,” admitted Tony. “He beat me yesterday, and it really hurts.”

“When I get beat up, my mama makes me take a warm bath. You should take a warm bath, Tony.” Tony had to admit, the idea of being surrounded by warm, comforting water sounded good. They rarely took baths in the Stark household, all the adults preferring showers instead. But wait…

“They don’t have baths at school,” said Tony with a frown. “They only have those stand-uppy things.” Steve bit his lip for a few seconds, then seemed to come to a conclusion. He stood up on shaky legs and held his hand out for Tony to stand up as well.

“We’ll go home and take a bath,” he said confidently, and Tony followed him, confused, as Steve led him to the coat hangers.

“We can’t leave school, that’s bad,” objected Tony. “Miss Max will be mad at us.”

“She’s still helping the little kids come in,” Steve pointed out, slipping his too-large backpack onto his bony shoulders. “You’re coming with me, right, Tony?” And of course Tony agreed. How could he say no to the bluest pair of eyes he’d ever seen?

  
  
  


Sneaking out of school had been easier than Tony expected. The guards at the school gate were busy shouting at a couple of teenagers for being late, and took no notice of two kindergarteners slipping by. When they left the school grounds, Steve was momentarily confused, but they managed to make it to his house, with several stops for Steve to sit and rest to catch his breath.

Tony looked at Steve’s house with interest. It was tall, much taller than his own house. It looked a bit dirty though, and some bad people had sprayed words he couldn’t read onto the side of it. Steve took him up four flights of stairs, which was very impressive to Tony. His house only had three floors, and Tony could see that there were more floors above.

Steve knocked tiredly on an old door that had the number 53 on it, and then sat on a stair to catch his breath. Tony looked around with interest, noting that there were two other doors marked ‘52’ and ‘51’ and Tony wondered what they meant.

Sarah Rogers opened her door cheerfully, expecting to see a tradesman or someone collecting for charity, and she damn near screamed at the sight of the two small figures in front of her.

“Stevie!” she gasped, clutching her heart in shock. The boy with him seemed familiar as well, and it took her a couple of seconds to place him.

“Oh my, it’s Tony! What are you two doing here?” Without waiting for an answer, she ushered them inside, and as an added precaution, double-locked the door. Tony watched her with interest. Steve’s mama seemed nice. He decided he liked her.

“Stevie,” she started uncertainly, getting over her shock, “What are you doing home from school?” Steve broke into a babble of explanation.

“Ma, Tony says he got hurt and it’s all red and swelly and it _really_ hurts ‘im so I said he could come here and you'd make him a nice bath because you do that for me when I'm beat up so I thought it'll make Tony feel good too so we walked here from school and we played hopscotch outside, and it was really fun, ma. Can Tony have a bath now?” Sarah had to sit down, overwhelmed by the deluge of information.

“Stevie, I've told you, never leave school unless I'm there to take you, or someone else is,” she scolded, her heart beating madly at the thought of her tiny son being crushed under a vehicle. He was so small and fragile, even a gust of wind from a passing car could kill him.

“But I wasn’t alone, ma, I was with Tony!” said Steve with a bright smile, and Tony grinned shyly as well, shuffling his feet. Now that she wasn’t so shocked, Sarah registered her son’s other comment as well, and noticed Tony’s sweater that was way too inappropriate for the summer heat, but perfect to cover up scars or wounds.

“Steve, baby, come sit with me,” she said with a sigh, and Steve happily bounded up to her lap, cuddling himself in her chest. Tony looked at Steve and Sarah in awe. If he tried to do that at home, his mama would yell at him for ruining her dress. “Tony, you too, sweetheart.”

Tony walked shyly up to Sarah and sat next to her on the tiny sofa. He winced at the pain in his backside, and Sarah noticed, despite him having made no noise.

“Sweetheart,” started Steve’s mother gently, forgetting that she had meant to scold Steve, “Where have you been hurt?”

Something in her kind tone made tears well up in Tony’s eyes. _His_ mama never asked him where it hurt. “Everywhere,” he mumbled, not looking either of them in the eye. Sarah rubbed a gentle hand over his head, stroking his hair.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Tony wanted to tell her, he really did, but when he tried, all he could feel was a big lump in his throat. He swallowed around it and tried to speak again, but nothing would come out.

“It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” said Sarah soothingly. “But do you mind if I take a look?”

Tony nodded and obediently lifted his arms as Sarah pulled his sweater and t-shirt off his body. He heard their very audible gasps and bit his lip, cheeks burning with shame.

“Steve, run to the bathroom and fill up the tub,” he heard Sarah say, “And then go to your room and play until I say you can come out.”

“But ma…”

“Go, Steve!’’

Tony heard Steve scurrying away to a different part of the house. Hot tears rolled down his face.

“Tony, sweetheart, I’m going to give you a nice, hot, bubble bath okay? It’ll close your wounds and make them feel much better,” said Sarah softly in his ear, and Tony nodded involuntarily. He would do anything for someone who spoke so nicely to him.

“Can you remove the rest of your clothes for me, love? I’ll heat up some water for you and be right back.” Tony didn’t answer for a second, and she took that as indicative of his shyness. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, darling,” she said softly, “And Stevie’s playing in his room so he won’t see you.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Tony woodenly removed his pants and underwear, fighting not to cry. Why didn’t _his_ mama give him baths when he was hurt? Why didn’t _his_ mama call him ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’ and give him hugs and kisses? Why couldn’t his mama be more like Steve’s?

He curled himself into a ball, ignoring the pain in his body at that, trying to stifle his sobs. He wanted a real mama, one like Sarah, who hugged him and kissed him and let him cuddle on her lap. He didn’t like his mama anymore.

Sarah Rogers walked in on the sobbing boy, and immediately felt her heart break for him. He was clearly in so much pain, not only from the evil-looking marks on his skin, but emotionally as well. She pushed that aside to deal with later.

“Hey sweetheart,” she said, soft but cheerful. “You ready to have a bath?” Tony nodded and followed Sarah into a small bathroom, which had an even tinier tub in it. Even through his sadness, Tony couldn’t help wondering how they had such a big house and yet such a tiny bathroom.

He looked inside the tub with interest; he’d never seen such pink-looking bubbles before. Sarah lifted him up from his armpits and set him inside the warm water. She sighed internally, knowing the heating bill would be much higher this month, and she’d used up all of the special bubble bath she’d reserved for Steve’s worst beatings. Still, the child in front of her was hurt, and she was willing to sacrifice a little to make him feel better again.

Tony couldn’t help but sigh with relief as the warm, soapy water hit his skin. He cautiously splashed the water around him, and then, discovering he liked it, happily splashed around in it some more. Sarah handed him a couple of Steve’s toys and Tony grabbed them excitedly, soon becoming engrossed in a game of Duckies vs. Pirates.

Sarah couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the boy enjoying himself, his previous worries forgotten. By the way he was so excited and awed by everything he saw, she could almost believe it was his first time in a bath. In fact…

“Tony,” she said, raising her voice a little to be heard over the claps of water. Tony immediately dropped his toys and looked up at her. “Is this your first time taking a bath?” The boy nodded.

“My mama and daddy don’t take baths,” he said sweetly, turning back to his game. “They said it’s a waste of time.”

“Your mama and daddy?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual. “Are they the ones who made these ouchies on your body?”

Tony nodded distractedly, more focused on trying to sink one of the pirate boats that just _wouldn’t stay under._ “Daddy hit me, but mama didn’t. She just stood there and watched.”

“Do you know why your daddy hit you?” Tony paused his game and wrinkled his nose, trying to remember. “He said I shouldn't be friends with Steve, and then he hit me when I asked if Steve could come and play with me. He called me a _figgot._ ” Tony shrugged and turned back to the toys. “Daddy was going to hit mama too, but I don’t think she’s a _figgot_ ‘cause she has no friends.”

The anger that had been slowly simmering in Sarah’s gut threatened to reach boiling point. How could anyone treat their child, _their own child,_ like this? And the nice butler or manservant or whatever he was that Sarah had met yesterday, why wasn’t he doing anything to stop it? She looked at Tony again, feeling such an overwhelming surge of love and protection towards him that she knew she would do whatever she could to keep him safe.

Sarah rubbed Tony’s body gently, not bothering to be too thorough since the boy was already quite clean. Tony obediently raised his arms and lifted his head whenever she asked, which made her consider bringing Steve in and showing him Tony as a model of good behaviour during bathtime.

After almost half an hour in the tub, Sarah finally pulled the plug and carried Tony into her bedroom, wrapped in one of Steve’s big fluffy towels. She gently wiped over his body, making sure not to irritate his wounds too much, and then used some of her precious supply of ointment over every patch of irritated skin she could find. She dressed him in one of Steve’s t-shirts, one that he had loved but was now too big for him, and a pair of shorts. 

Tony looked at her adoringly through all this, and it made her heart grow and break at the same time at how much this little boy trusted her. And yet, it was utterly saddening that this was the most love he’d gotten in his six years of life, from a woman he didn’t even know. Sarah couldn’t resist pulling the boy into a hug and letting him cuddle against her chest, the way Steve had done earlier and Tony had looked at with a mixture of both jealousy and awe. He’d probably never been hugged like this before.

Tony yawned and wrapped his arms around Steve’s mama’s neck. This was warm and safe and he liked it here. He felt tired and cozy, and Steve’s mama made a wonderful pillow. He yawned quietly into her neck, and his body shook as she laughed. He laughed too, not knowing why but happy all the same.

“Are you tired, love?” she asked quietly, and Tony nodded. “That’s what happens after a good bath, you get tired and sleepy and you have to relax.” She kissed his forehead again and set him on the floor, knocking on Steve’s bedroom door. “It’s still a bit early for naptime though, so you can play with Steve for a little while before you sleep, okay?” Tony nodded.

Steve didn’t open the door, so Sarah pushed it open and went inside herself, holding Tony’s hand. Steve was lying in the foetal position on his bed, eyes half open and filled with tears. Sarah knew what was happening immediately, which only made her feel worse: her little boy was _hungry._ Letting go of Tony, she scooped Steve up in her arms, an easy feat considering the boy barely weighed as much as a bag of rice, and peppered kisses to his face until he was giggling quietly, mildly distracted. She plopped him down on his bed and kissed his cheek, her heart sinking as she felt his bony ribs pressed to her chest.

“Is Steve sick?” asked a quiet voice from beside her, and she placed a hand protectively on Tony’s neck.

“Stevie’s fine,” she said, her words sounding fake even to herself. “But don’t play anything too energetic or boisterous, okay?”

“I think he’s hungry,” said Tony thoughtfully, and then gasped and ran back to the front room. barely had time to wonder what was happening when Tony rushed back in with his backpack. “I have sandwiches for Steve,” he announced proudly, pulling out a paper bag that looked like it was filled with enough food to feed Sarah and Steve for a week. “I told Ana to make ‘xtra so I could share.” He pulled out a cling-wrapped egg sandwich and handed it to Steve, who looked like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Tony stuck his little hand inside the bag, pulled out another sandwich and handed it to Sarah.

“This is for you, Steve’s mama,” he said proudly, and Sarah had to fight the urge to cry. Even when she spoke, her voice was suspiciously shaky. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, “But you can eat that. You must be hungry too.”

“I have more!” exclaimed Tony, ripping open the paper bag to reveal four more wrapped sandwiches inside. Sarah’s stomach grumbled and she had to hold herself back from devouring all four at once. Instead, she took the bag from Tony and patted his head.

“Thank you very much sweetheart, but I’ll just put these in the fridge for you to eat later. You and Steve can play after you eat now, okay? Steve, make sure you don't spill anything, and clean up any crumbs. I’ll be back soon after I clean up.”

Both boys nodded, their mouths already full. Sarah left the room and closed the door behind her, sending a silent but quick prayer of thanks up to the heavens that she didn't have to see her son go without food for another day.

She cleaned the bathroom, wiping off any spots of water young feet would be liable to slip and fall on. Setting the apartment in order took more time than she’d thought, and when she slowly cracked open Steve’s door, she expected to see them in the middle of a game, sandwiches long forgotten. Instead, what she saw brought a tear to her eye.

Steve and Tony were curled together on Steve’s bed, deeply asleep. They weren’t cuddling exactly, but they were definitely more close than they needed to be in such a large bed. As Sarah moved closer, she could see that they’d fallen asleep holding hands, and Steve’s other hand rested on Tony’s back, as if trying to rub the scars away. Tearing up, Sarah quickly grabbed her phone to take a picture (or a million). She kissed both boys softly and tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Outside the door, she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. She looked at the phone in her hand and hesitated for a moment, before she clenched her jaw and unlocked it. She had an urgent call to make to CPS.

**Author's Note:**

> Out of everything I've ever written, this has got to be my absolute favourite. I have so many more ideas on where to take this, so I was thinking of a sequel? maybe? if enough people like this? Let me know if you guys would like one, and if you have other ides on where it could go. Comments and kudos are v appreciated :)
> 
> Ooh, and I finally made a tumblr! Come say hi @chocolatecapcookie !
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, and I love you 3000!


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